


Kiss Me (like you want to be loved)

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, I really don't know what else to tell you, Pack Feels, Peter isn't a creeper, Pre-Relationship, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a noticeable shift in the air when Lydia looks at Peter. She looks at him and she feels no fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me (like you want to be loved)

**Author's Note:**

> These two give me so many feels I don't know how to handle it.  
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.  
> I own nothing
> 
> Title is from Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran

There’s a noticeable shift in the air when Lydia looks at Peter. She looks at him and she feels no fear. She looks at him and feels no disgust.

At first she wonders if he’s playing in her mind like a child would play in a sandbox. But when his eyes meet hers, soft and curious, she decides that no, he for once is not playing with her sanity.

The days pass in the blink of an eye, the seasons changing from the chilled winter days and give way to warm air and new birth from the ground.

She sits on the back porch, sipping lemonade with her feet hanging off the ledge, wiggling her toes as the glossy peach on each nail dries. The pack is sparring just a few feet away under the shade trees with Derek barking out encouragements with Stiles at his side who is a mess of flailing limbs and a mouth that tries to stutter out improvements too quickly. She smiles at the pair around the brim of her glass as she drinks.

He sits down next to her, so silently that Lydia only knows he’s there by the change of air that brushes over arm and the light scent of spearmint that surrounds Peter now instead of the stench of charred wood.

It’s the first time Peter has ever sat next to her and it’s the first time Lydia doesn’t flinch away from him.

They say nothing to each other, sitting in comfortable silence with one another. Lydia holds out her glass to him without looking, tiny droplets of condensation sliding down the chilled glass and dropping with just audible thumps against the porch.

He looks at her, puzzled with the glass almost completely full but takes it anyway. He holds it between both hands and just _looks_ at it then hesitantly raises it to his lips and takes a tentative sip, just barely enough for the sharp tart sweetness of lemons to reach his tongue before lowering it again.

When Lydia holds her hand back out he gives her the glass back and watches as she takes a sip for herself.

They do this, passing the lemonade back and forth between each other while they watch the sparring and training, in silence until the glass left with just the mostly melted ice cubes clanking in the bottom of the glass.

The touch to Peter’s hand surprises him enough to make him jump. He looks down and finds Lydia’s hand just touching his, her hand so small and pale in comparison, the soft nude color polish on the tips making her hand seem even smaller to him.

His eyes rise to her face when he realizes he’s staring at their hands and find Lydia giving him a soft smile. When she takes her hand and quietly rises from the porch he can still feel her touch linger on his skin, the warmth not leaving him and he watches her retreat into the house, empty lemonade glass loosely held by her fingertips around the rim.

When the screen door closes behind her he turns his attentions back to the group snarling and yipping wereteens that have started to tumble around on the grass. He chuckles when Isaac’s fingers snake around Derek’s ankle and haul him into the mix.

From his spot on the porch he can pick of the light airy laugh of Lydia the moment Derek scrambles to tug Stiles in with him, the lithe teen screaming bloody murder when they _all_ direct their attention to him and commence with tickle torture.

It’s after he’s had to come to Stiles recuse that he looks up at the house and catches a glimpse of Lydia in the kitchen window that he realizes she smiled at him.

It’s the first time he’s ever been on the receiving end of one of her genuine smiles.

A few weeks later Lydia finds herself sitting atop an old worn picnic table. She winces when Stiles steps up to the grill and wonder who left Stilinski on cooking duty and if they remembered to bring the first aid kit.

The thought is forgotten when the table bows a little more when Peter sits next to her. Its closer this time, their thighs pressed tightly against each other. Neither makes any moves to move apart. Instead Lydia chews her lower lip and reaches over to timidly slide her hand into Peters.

They turn their heads at the same time. Lydia giving him a barely there smile that lights up her eyes and Peter looking back with surprise.

Second tick by and they’re still gazing at each other.

She doesn’t know who initiated it but she finds her lips on Peter’s and her heart stutters in her chest. It’s the first time they’ve kissed since Peter made her mind his own personal playground. But the kiss feels different than then. It’s soft and warm, no desperation or deceit poisoning it. It’s perfect.

But Peter must interpret the beating of her heart as fear and all too soon he’s pulling away from the kiss, an apology already falling from his lips.

Lydia silences him by pressing her lips back to his, her hand tightening around his as she laces their fingers together. Peter sighs, what must be relief, against her lips.

Her eyes fall shut when his nimble fingers card through her hair to cup the back of her head, to anchor her in place.

When they finally part for air Lydia feels flushed and Peter looks absolutely dazed as he grins at her.

To her it feels right, the moment between them. He feels right to her.

She knows that with their history she should feel fear or revulsion.

But when she lays her head on his shoulder and his head lays atop hers while they watch Stiles burn their burgers to the point of no return and Derek chase him around wielding a spatula like a katana for punishment she knows that she had no fear for the older Hale.

Peter gives her hand a small squeeze and she gives one right back and smiles.

It feels right.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be much appreciated.


End file.
